


only she could defy death

by ladynova



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Stylistically Lowercase, a series of vignettes that i will most definitely regret writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladynova/pseuds/ladynova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a series of vignettes recounting lon'qu's journey after the war comes to an end, after she leaves his world.</p><p>he refuses to think her dead, regardless of how long it has been, but he questions why it pains him in such an unspeakable manner, to have lost her, when he has lost so many people so many times before. (he is trembling, and the next shot does not burn.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> returning to my not-so-obvious roots with the sad writing (that may or may not have been caused by school starting in a few days). i've written nothing but happy fics for the past year, so i figured change would do me some good. there will most likely be a few allusions to last summer's fic "figs and wonder" as well.
> 
> and without further ado, i hope you all enjoy -

although lon’qu has avoided alcohol for as long as he can remember out of distaste for the way it renders one unable to think clearly, he finds something akin to satiation in the way his next shot sears the back of his throat.

as he angles his stare into the bottom of his now-empty glass, he has half a mind to wonder how many shots he has taken since he first stepped foot into the dingy bar miles from the castle, but as his drink refills itself without him being able to recall how, he pushes the thought away, lifting the bitter liquid to his lips and swallowing hard. right hand clasped around the shot glass, he shuts his eyes, hoping he has finally managed to weaken his sense of feeling and dull his ability to remember.

_( — he hazily sees himself thumbing at the dark circles beneath her eyes, chiding her for staying up so long to pore over books she undoubtedly memorized battles ago. with his arms secured around her waist, he can feel her heart beating as it should be, and her smile smolders with unparalleled radiance that he commits to memory. even today, he still cannot, cannot, cannot forget — )_

he is trembling, and the next shot does not burn.

the bartender glances up as lon’qu lets the side of his palm hit the table, glass still in hand. he purses his lips at the sight of the other man sitting bodily in his chair while simultaneously not being _there_ at all, slumping forward and looking off at something or someone no one else can see. setting down the cup he had been drying, the bartender takes a step toward lon’qu, leaning against the countertop to meet his bloodshot eyes.

“you look like you’ve seen death, my friend,” he tells lon’qu quietly, now taking notice of the wan complexion of his skin. he half-considers repeating his words as the swordsman continues to stare somewhere past him, but lon’qu’s eyes find his lighter ones eventually, leveling a look at the bartender that nearly causes him to take a step back.

a contrasting but wholly empty smile pulls at the corners of lon’qu’s lips as he pushes the hollow glass forward with two fingers. “i have,” he affirms, sounding as though he hasn’t spoken in days. “veteran of war. i’ve seen death and things like death.”

lon’qu peers up at the bartender, who had fallen uncomfortably still. “i’m sorry,” the man murmurs, and although he speaks as if lon’qu’s words are merely an unfortunate byproduct of his drunkenness, lon’qu can’t find it in himself to care. his glass is filled after a moment’s hesitation, and he circles its rim with his gaze.

the ceiling and floor meld into one as he sets his jaw in attempt to repress the sudden urge to vomit. his hands are shaking, the weight of his blade at his back his only worldly reminder of who he is and what he has lived through.

he refuses to think her dead, regardless of how long it has been: she is merely gone for the time being. even so, he questions why it pains him in such an unspeakable manner, to have lost her, when he has lost so many people so many times before.

lon’qu supposes it is love. he only wishes he had told her while he could still hear him.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> that night, he dreams of his mother.

lon’qu’s mother had the hands of a woman who had worked herself to the bone; they had always felt faintly rough against her son’s face but nevertheless warm, affectionate, and kind for every day until the night she died. lon’qu’s last memories of her are ones he cannot escape.

even in her last moments, her hand was gentle against her son's, her fingers linked with his in a way that betrayed how desperately she fought to stay with him as seconds blurred them by. lon'qu remembers how he kneeled at her bedside in the flickering light of a single nearby candle, the ground unforgivingly rough against his bruising knees, and he remembers how his throat screamed as he clenched his teeth in attempt to prevent his mother from glimpsing the tears welling in the sharp, umber eyes she once gave him.

he grasped her right hand with both of his, her left palm remaining open and outstretched to her husband, who sat a short distance away, slumped in a chair that struggled to support the weight of his misery. as a child of almost twelve, lon'qu could barely recall a time in which his father had felt further away than he did then.

his mother passed into the next world quietly, an echo of a soft smile and expression of comfort washing away the years of stress and worry from her otherwise beautiful face, and it was only after her eyes closed that lon'qu allowed himself to shed tears over her body. she had given up so much for him; she had given him her earth and her sky, a home and a sword, but despite it all, he had failed to protect her from a sickness that claimed her life like a coward, never showing its true face until the bitter end.

no matter how hard lon’qu fought, he could not keep his tears from trickling down his dirt-stained face and onto his mother's still-open palms. even in death, she would hold an ocean for him and listen as he wept.

when his sobs finally subsided, he inhaled slowly and kissed his mother goodbye, his lips trembling at her forehead, her temples, her cheeks. breathing became slightly easier as his eyes traveled across her relaxed features; while she had been alive, she had never looked so at peace even during slumber. his chest tore as he released her hand, but he knew he had to let go although he would hold her in his heart always.

the young boy then turned to find his father, who had yet to approach his wife's resting body. lon'qu took a step toward him, still quivering. "father," he whispered, reaching out to him.

the man who met his eyes was one he did not recognize. "if we hadn't had you," he barely heard his father say, "maybe - maybe she would still -"

lon'qu watched soundlessly as his father fell to his knees by his mother's body, the words he had uttered resonating within him. a lifetime later, his father reached into his pocket, tossing lon’qu a small cloth pouch that would be last thing he ever received from a man of his blood. "go," his father told him, not meeting his eyes. "get the hell out of this place."

unable to comprehend the man he had known his whole life, lon'qu fumbled for the pouch of coins, glancing between the two people who had always been his world. "father, please..." he whispered, voice barely audible.

a broad hand was upon his face within seconds, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe, still couldn’t understand. he stumbled backward as his father shouted, mouth forming the hard syllable of _go_.

and so he did, turning abruptly and chasing his own footsteps into the night, accompanied only by the light of the moon and the rhythm of his ragged breaths.


End file.
